With Rosemary and Bays
by LilinasWrites
Summary: Expectation Fails one-shot #9! Kurt is determined that when they go back to school and work, Blaine will be wearing a chastity cage. Now he just has to persuade Blaine.


Wednesday

"Would you just look at it?"

"I'm thinking it might be better not to look at it until you're actually going to use it. Like, rip the bandage off all at once."

"I know you Blaine. You obsess. The longer you wait, the more of a big deal it's going to get to be. I think the gradual desensitizing method is a much better choice for you."

Blaine just stared at Kurt. No, to be accurate, he stared at the Bondage Depot box that Kurt was holding. It was small. Of course it was small. What was in it was small. Barely bigger, in fact, than his dick. His dick at its smallest.

"Kurt –"

"Blaine –"

When Blaine offered no retort Kurt sighed, set the box on the dresser, and took Blaine's hands, pulling him over to sit on the bed.

"It's just bondage, honey. You like bondage. You love bondage."

"I know." Blaine tried not to whine. He really did.

"Well just think of this as bondage for . . . down there."

"Really? Really Kurt? Do you think you should be locking it on me if you can't even say the name of the body part you're locking it on?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, but he leaned closer to Blaine and dropped his voice to a seductive whisper. "Bondage. For. Your." He put his lips against Blaine's ear. "Penis."

Blaine pulled away with a huff, crossed his arms, and pouted at Kurt.

"Oh come on," Kurt said, "now you're being silly. I was just making a joke. I can say it. Cock." It came out louder than it needed to in the quiet bedroom. "It's a cock cage. It's going on your cock. So your cock can't get hard. Can I stop saying it now?"

"I don't think you fully appreciate how difficult this is for me."

Kurt tugged at Blaine's folded arms, pulling them apart so he could hold Blaine's hands again. "I do. I promise I do. But I also know that I had to wait to measure you until you were asleep."

"Of course I'm going to get hard when you're touching me! My whole purpose in life is to get hard when you're touching me."

"What about that time after the blow job?"

Kurt had a point. The blow job had been amazing. Blaine had been sure nothing could revive his flaggin dick after that. But Kurt's tape measure had. Stupid dick.

"Besides," Kurt reminded him, "we had an agreement about this."

"I know," Blaine admitted reluctantly.

"And I think I've lived up to my end pretty well."

It was Blaine's turn to grip Kurt's hands tightly. "You have. My God, of course you have."

"Well then?" Kurt's eyes skewered him, and Blaine knew he was being petulant and unfair. All Kurt was asking him to do was look at it. So why did that seem like such a big commitment?

Kurt waited, but when Blaine didn't speak he hopped off the bed. "Alright. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to go clean up the lunch dishes –"

"That's my job," Blaine protested. "You cooked."

"Yes, well, you forfeited your right to clean up after me by not doing what I asked you to do when I asked you to do it." He snatched the box off the dresser and dropped it on the bed in the exact spot where his ass had just been resting. "So I'm going to clean up the dishes and you're going to stay here and make friends with that _cock cage._"

He said it too loudly on purpose that time, maybe trying to make Blaine laugh, but Blaine kept his scowl in place. He kept it in place until Kurt had left the room, until his footsteps receded toward the living room. He kept it in place as music that was too faint to make out clearly began to drift back in his direction, accompanied eventually by the clinks and clanks of pots and pans.

Now alone, Blaine allowed his scowl to downgrade to a resigned frown.

Then Kurt's voice, pointedly louder than the music, drifted back to Blaine's ears.

_"It won't be easy, you'll think it strange . . ."_

He had to laugh, in spite of himself.

But then as Kurt kept out-belting Patti LuPone, Blaine remembered. The very first time Kurt had sung that song – or any song – for him, on a Sunday afternoon in March, standing next to the piano in pajama bottoms, bare-chested and exposed in a way that, at the time, Blaine had barely guessed at the significance of. His brand new lover and dom, singing for him while all Blaine could do was stare, and wonder, and give thanks. It was perhaps the tiniest of reminders from Kurt about how far he'd come in such a short time, so that Blaine could start living the life he'd been dreaming about for more than a decade. Almost fourteen years, to be exact. Fourteen years without Kurt.

He sighed, and reached for the box.

Kurt had helpfully slit the tape, so all Blaine had to do was fold back the flaps and lift out the protective layer of Styrofoam.

The . . . device . . . lay nestled in the bottom layer of Styrofoam, gleaming gray metal that reflected the light back at Blaine. It wasn't ugly, he had to admit. No, there was a kind of stark beauty to it, at least there in the box where it was still something hypothetical. It was definitely a cage, there was no denying that. And penis shaped. Made of the kind of gleaming steel that would set his heart fluttering in anticipation if it was any other shape. Handcuffs. Collar. Hell, even a long, think sounding rod that, while common sense told him to stay far away, couldn't help stirring his deepest, darkest desires.

But this – this was different. This changed the landscape of how his body expressed its need and its submission. This let Kurt dictate, in the most fundamental way, through his arousal, _how_ Blaine was allowed to submit. And not just when they were playing together but all the time, in the shower, at work, at night when Blaine was alone in bed. Blaine was happy to obey rules and abide by restrictions. More than happy, he lived for it. But to give Kurt control of even his unconscious physical reactions?

His unconscious physical reaction asserted itself at that very moment, stirring with arousal that he was sure he didn't feel at all.

"I don't know why you're getting excited," he reprimanded his dick. "This is not going to end well for you."

His dick seemed determined to disagree.

He slipped a finger through one of the bars and pulled the cage from its Styrofoam bed. The feel of it, rigid, unyielding, strict, did nothing to persuade his cock to settle down.

Touching it left him a little breathless. He had no idea why. Of course he didn't.

It was small. So small, compared to the size of his cock when it was full and hard. Kurt had said that smaller was better. More room for growth meant more uncomfortable half-erections. Kurt said. But small meant tight; small meant that he'd be so aware of it, gripping his cock in its rigid embrace. Denying him with a finality that bore no argument.

Out in the kitchen, Kurt was still singing.

"_The answer was here all time. I love you and hope you love me."_

He wrapped his fingers around the heavy solidity of the cage, and stared up at the pulley still bolted to the ceiling until Kurt's voice began the final reprise of the chorus. Then with a sigh he climbed out of the bed and, still holding the cage, left the room and crept silently up the hallway. Kurt was at the sink, washing a pot, singing so beautifully that you would have thought he was on the stage at Carnegie Hall instead of staring out their kitchen window. Blaine snuck up behind him and slipped his arms around Kurt's waist just as the song came to an end.

"So when are you locking this thing to my junk?" he asked, dangling the cage from one finger over the sink full of soapy water.

Kurt turned around in the circle of his arms. "For the love of God, don't ever call it that again. And I thought we'd give it a try on Saturday. I'll be here all night so you won't have to deal with it alone. And if it goes well, then we'll put it back on Sunday evening and you can wear it until I see you on Tuesday."

The obvious care with which Kurt had planned this, taking into account Blaine's fear and anxiety, made Blaine feel even more ashamed of himself.

"Let me see it," Kurt said, reaching back for Blaine's hand. He hadn't even looked at it, Blaine realized. He'd let Blaine see it and touch it first.

Kurt cupped it in one hand, and his face softened. Color rose and stained his jaw and the tips of his ears as he ran one finger down the bars, then slipped it between them, caressing air, as if there was already a cock stuffed inside it that he was teasing in the spaces. His lips parted; his tongue reflexively moistened them in a gesture that would have been provocative even if he wasn't holding a chastity cage. When he looked back at Blaine his eyes were dark and sparkling.

"I'm glad to see at least someone's excited by this," he said, and for a moment Blaine was confused by what he meant, but then Kurt lowered his gaze pointedly to Blaine's crotch, where his now full-blown erection bulged his pants obscenely.

Blaine lifted one hand to the back of Kurt's neck and pulled him down into a kiss, pressing his pelvis against Kurt's, where he was sure there was some answering movement going on.

"What was that for?" Kurt asked, a little breathless, when they parted.

"Just taking advantage of being hard while I still can."

Kurt laughed happily, which was almost, almost worth it.

Saturday

Shaving his balls had never been part of the bargain.

He'd known, or he should have known, since chastity had taken up an entire unit of his long-ago sub classes. Why subs wanted it, why doms needed it, how to cope with it and increase one's endurance. The physiology of the teased and denied sexual organs (there had been much squirming and furtive adjusting during that section), and of course the mechanics of wearing a chastity device. A clean shave helped ensure that everything was in its proper place, to avoid accidental pinching and chafing. And stray hairs could become caught between the ring and the cage, or twist around the bars themselves. There was the right kind of pain and the wrong kind of pain and having your pubic hairs unexpectedly pulled out by the root usually constituted the wrong kind.

Blaine knew, but that hadn't stopped him from gaping when Kurt handed him his razor and recited the warning at him, almost word for word. Apparently dom class differed from sub class more in perspective than in curriculum.

He wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror and stared at his smudgy reflection. Everything felt weird. He'd shaved in the past but had gotten out of the habit, and since Kurt hadn't said anything about it he'd limited himself to neat and careful grooming since they'd been together. So it had been a while since his balls had been bare. He'd forgotten how exposed it made him feel, and how every sensation – the slide of soap, the rasp of the towel, even the brush of his own thighs – was magnified, like his skin was only now being touched for the very first time. It was a very unusual feeling.

It was also a very arousing feeling, which was bad, because in addition to shaving, Kurt had ordered him to put the ring from the device on himself. Kurt had assumed (rightly, Blaine had to admit) that there was no way he could do that much fumbling with Blaine's balls and cock without him getting hard. The ring was small – smaller than a cock ring, obviously, because it was meant to prevent erections not accommodate them – so Blaine had to be completely soft to squeeze everything through it. The only problem was that even thinking about squeezing everything through it made his cock stand up to applaud the idea.

"You are not helping me," Blaine muttered to it, twisting on the cold water tap and shoving a washcloth under the icy flow.

He wore his towel back to the bedroom. It was a feeble defense, he knew. Kurt would have it off him immediately. But the little bit of added armor it gave him was comforting.

"Let me see," Kurt said, as soon as Blaine crossed the threshold. He was sitting on the bed, fully dressed, holding the other half of the device in fidgety fingers, pressing his lips together the way he did when he was either very annoyed or trying not to grin like a madman. Blaine suspected the latter, in this case.

He dropped the towel.

He was already half-hard again, the shiny steel ring embracing the root of his cock and circling behind his balls, pulling them forward unnaturally, showing off their newly denuded state. He watched Kurt, fingers twirling around the cage, watch him, and his cock reached out as if eager to reunite the two halves of the device. He stepped backward, maybe vainly thinking distance might help his body calm down, but came up against the wall and had to stop.

Kurt slipped off the bed and came closer, close enough that Blaine could smell the shampoo-scent on his hair and the musk of excitement underneath it. He cupped Blaine's balls, very gently, stroking his thumb over quivering flesh. Blaine groaned as he felt his cock go still stiffer.

"I like it," Kurt breathed. "I wasn't sure if I would, but I really do."

Blaine held up the cold washcloth. "I think you're going to need this. Especially if you keep doing _that_."

"Are you trying to tell me what I can do with my property?"

Blaine leaned back into the hard support of the wall behind him. Kurt was into it. Kurt was _really_ into it. And turning Kurt on was the most powerful aphrodisiac Blaine knew of. His cock began to throb in the ring as Kurt's fingers continued their exquisite assault on his always responsive body.

"No master," he said, almost without thinking, and the rush of relief that flooded his body, muscling anxiety out of its way to fill up every available space, made him realize that Kurt was more than just into it. Kurt was brilliant.

"That's right." Kurt's eyes pinned Blaine even harder to the wall. He leaned close, bringing his lips to brush with the lightest possible touch against Blaine's, but when Blaine chased for more he pulled away. "I have something else for you." Kurt's fingers left Blaine's balls – he could feel tingling aftershocks in their wake – and he reached into his pocket. When his hand came back into Blaine's line of sight a tiny golden padlock dangled from his fingers. It was an ordinary lock, as far as Blaine could see, except for the "Kurt's" engraved in fancy script on the surface of it.

"It's upside-down," Blaine said stupidly, because this was the lock that was going to secure his dick in a cage, and also because as Kurt held it by the hasp the words really were upside down.

"No they're not. I had them do it so that you can read it, when it's locked." Kurt held it in position against the pin of the ring, then, when Blaine only stared at him, used his other hand to tilt Blaine's head down toward his cock. Sure enough, hanging in position the "Kurt's" read perfectly. "This isn't about other people," Kurt explained. "Nobody else is ever going to get close enough to read what's on that lock. And I already know what's mine. This is to remind _you_ who it belongs to. Not you. Me."

He let go of Blaine's head and Blaine looked up to find his eyes looking oh so blue, and a little self-satisfied smile playing around his lips.

"If you keep this up you're never going to get it on me," Blaine said breathlessly.

In response Kurt simply took the not-quite-as-cold-as-before washcloth from Blaine's fingers and draped it unceremoniously over his upright cock. Not quite as cold to his fingers, maybe, but plenty cold to do the job on his dick, which slowly wilted as Blaine gasped against the wall, taking the cloth with it. Watching it descend under its cover like a deflating ghost made Blaine want to giggle. Maybe he was becoming hysterical. He closed his eyes for a moment and almost missed Kurt whipping off the cloth and quickly sliding the cage in its place.

Almost.

Blaine couldn't look at it, so he kept his gaze fixed on Kurt as he lined up the holes in the cage and the pin and slipped the lock through the opening. Then his eyes raised to Blaine's. He didn't say anything, just stared, silently, and one eyebrow lifted in a tiny arch before he snapped the lock shut with a click that beat against Blaine's submissive ears like canon fire.

He could feel it everywhere; it surrounded him completely. Logically he knew it was only on his cock, but it felt like his entire body had been caged, locked up somewhere to wait on his master's pleasure. His heart smashed against his chest and his knees went weak. He would have fallen if it wasn't for Kurt standing so close and pressing him back into the wall, like he knew Blaine would need the extra support. He couldn't look away from Kurt's eyes, and they stared back, unwavering, letting Blaine draw strength from Kurt's certainty.

He had no idea how long he stood there, trembling and panting, with Kurt holding him up both physically and emotionally, but eventually his breath began to settle and the feeling of constriction receded, ebbing away inch by inch until it was only (mostly) around his cock, a tight squeeze around his hopeful erection that denied his body more than any verbal "no" could ever do.

Kurt was doing something, his hands fumbled near his waist but Blaine didn't dare look down. He couldn't. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall so that there would be no temptation. Zero. He didn't want to see.

Then he felt a hand wrap around his cock, and something else, something hard that poked at his belly, pressed alongside his captive length. Tears filled his eyes and spilled past his closed lids and he didn't know why, except that he was almost sure he knew where this was going.

"Look down, Blaine," Kurt said, and his voice was soft but the command was unmistakable.

Blaine obeyed.

They both rested in Kurt's open palm, Blaine's dick, captured in steel, tiny, restricted, pressing out between the bars because it so wanted to get hard but there was no way, because it belonged to Kurt and Kurt would decide what it was allowed to feel. And lying alongside it, Kurt's, bursting out of his opened fly, turgid and free, long, thick, hard, surging powerfully.

Seeing them there, together, was overwhelming, frightening, and perfect.

Kurt, Kurt who knew that words were powerful, thrust lazily so that his own cock stroked along Blaine's, letting their flesh connect in the spaces between the bars of the cage, and murmured, "See. Just as it should be. Now you don't have to worry about silly things like when you get to come or if you can hold back. Now you can keep all your attention where it belongs. On pleasing me."

It was hard to remember why he had ever objected to the cage when Kurt was stroking a thumb through the bars, coaxing his cock to test the limits of its prison, and whispering words straight out of fantasy dom porn that drove spikes of desire right through Blaine's belly.

"Only one of these matters now," he smiled slyly and dropped both their cocks. His own surged up, hard and free against his belly, while Blaine's, weighted by the cage, dropped toward the floor. "I think you'd better get busy taking care of the one that does, if you ever expect me to let you out of that thing."

He took one step back, leaving just enough space between them for Blaine to fall to his knees, which Blaine promptly did. He wasn't sure he had a choice, the way his legs were trembling. But once down there he felt better; he felt right. This was his place, on his knees for his master, serving his master and giving him pleasure. When Kurt's cock pushed at his lips Blaine opened eagerly and moaned with abandon as Kurt's length slid along his tongue and deeper into his throat.

It was different, so different. Normally Blaine would be hard, his cock upright and leaking and throbbing with need. Now he leaked, and he throbbed, but there was no hard, there couldn't be. The cage held him tight, forcing back the arousal, but he found as Kurt continue to thrust languidly in and out of his mouth that the arousal didn't go away just because it couldn't take its normal route through his body. No, it seemed to build up and intensify until his balls and his ass and everything in between was tingling with repressed need, sending long tendrils of arousal up his back and into his belly. His body was chained, his pleasure redirected, all under Kurt's hand and at Kurt's whim and _fuck_ he just wanted as much of Kurt's cock as he could get. He bobbed his head, meeting each of Kurt's strokes, licking when he could, sucking Kurt deep into his throat. Their push/pull went on for what felt like forever, smooth and full, until Kurt began to gasp above him, then moan, and his hand fell onto Blaine's head to hold him still and set a faster pace, rushing toward completion.

"So good," Kurt panted as he thrust. "My good boy. So perfect."

Blaine's whole body spasmed, even as Kurt's release filled his mouth, and he was in that moment very grateful for the cage he'd feared so much. Very grateful indeed.

Tuesday

He waited just inside the hallway, staying out of sight only until the front door closed and locked behind Kurt, so that he could be sure none of his neighbors would get an eyeful. But as soon as he heard the click of the bolt he flung himself across the living room and pinned a gasping, surprised Kurt against the door.

"Fuck me," he demanded, before sealing his lips against Kurt's, pressing him so hard into the door that he squirmed and pushed back just enough to break the suction between their mouths.

"Can I breathe first? And put down my bag?" Kurt laughed. He didn't seem at all surprised to find himself with an armful of naked-except-for-his-cuff-and-cage Blaine.

Blaine shoved the strap off of Kurt's shoulder and the bag thunked on the floor. Then he kissed him again, putting every ounce of desperation that had been building in his body into his embrace.

It had been simultaneously the longest and shortest two days of his life. Longest because, obviously, his dick was locked in a cage, twenty-four hours a day, he had to sit down to pee, and cleaning it was a bitch, and the nighttime erection attempts were literally murder. But then there was the part where Kurt sent him texts worded deliberately to make him insane – _are you keeping that cock safe for me boy? _(Apparently dirty talk by text was easier than in person for Kurt.) – and he'd been able to keep at it and keep at it because there was no fear of Blaine embarrassing himself in front of whatever students he was subbing for on that particular day. And because the cage was always there, he could feel it holding him tight, restraining him for Kurt. He would let himself imagine that it was Kurt's hand, keeping a good grip on him by proxy until they were back together again.

He'd come to discover, over the two days and nights he'd worn it, that having his cock caged was very much like bondage. For the longest time Kurt had made him hold himself still, and that had its own kind of beauty. Blaine loved the control it required, to keep still no matter what Kurt did to his body, no matter how badly he wanted to touch. But there was a freedom in bondage. A level of release he could never achieve when he had to remember to keep himself still. And the cage was the same way. He'd though that he would miss the submissive thrill of getting hard, so hard and desperate and close, and holding back because the only thing more important than his orgasm was his obedience to Kurt's will. But the cage took holding back out of the equation. And Blaine discovered the freedom in not having to worry about coming by accident.

Monday night Kurt had told him over the phone to finger himself and it had begun as it normally would have, Blaine carefully stroking and teasing himself, being sure not to take it too far. But eventually he realized that, with his dick locked away, there was no such thing as too far. He could push himself as close as he could get. He could roll over (and he did) and hump the bed, deliberately building up his own desperation for any sensation, rubbing off against the sheets as if it would get him anywhere while three fingers slid as deep as he could get them into his ass. He could stimulate himself until sweat ran down his face and tears of frustration leaked from his eyes and he collapsed in an exhausted quivering heap on of caged need on the bed.

So he did. And it was glorious.

By Tuesday afternoon he wasn't even thinking about being set free. All he wanted was Kurt's cock.

"Please, please fuck me," he panted when he came up for air. His fingers worked furiously at Kurt's shirt buttons. "I know I'm being a terrible role model and I should totally be telling you to do your homework first since it's our first Tuesday and we need to be responsible about this but," he tilted his head, bared his neck, and made his best pleading submissive eyes at Kurt, "if I don't have your cock inside me right now I think I may _die_."

Kurt huffed a breathless chuckle and wrapped a hand around Blaine's balls. They were so swollen and full, and when Kurt rolled them in his fingers Blaine's leg muscles turned to jelly. He managed to undo the final button of Kurt's shirt and wrapped his arms under it, around Kurt's waist, pulling himself against Kurt's bare chest and stretching to whisper in his ear. "I need it. So much. I'm stretched and everything, just please fuck me before I explode."

Kurt's hand moved to cup the cage, and his thumb stroked the flesh bulging out between the bars until Blaine's throat closed and he couldn't breathe.

"Do you want me to take this off first?" Kurt whispered back.

Blaine pulled back and stared at Kurt, and for a moment he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he wanted. Which, he realized, meant that he knew exactly what he wanted.

"I don't want to be the one to make that decision."

Kurt smiled at him like he was perfect, hooked two fingers under his cuff, and dragged him to the bedroom.

Kurt made him get on his knees on the bed and Blaine took advantage of the position to wiggle his ass as temptingly as he could while Kurt shed the rest of his clothing. When Kurt climbed up behind him and teased his hole with the head of his slicked cock, Blaine whimpered and tried to push back on it. He was empty, so empty for so long. Was it too much to ask to be filled?

"Settle down," Kurt ordered, holding Blaine still with firm hands on his hips. "I don't care how much you want it. I decide when you get it."

Blaine dropped his head on his folded arms and arched his back even further. Kurt's finger, or maybe his thumb, pressed hard against him, teasing his hole but not breaching it, and danced in a dizzying circle until Blaine was whimpering freely, his cock leaking like a faucet and doing its best to break the solid steel of the cage.

"That was punishment for being impatient," Kurt finally said. "Can you be good now?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

Blaine groaned again. He wasn't sure what was more teasingly frustrating, the touches or the words. "I'll be good. I promise."

His voice cracked a little on "promise," but Kurt didn't seem to mind. He pressed the blunt head of his cock against Blaine's hole, the pushed in in one swift thrust that pressed Blaine's dick into the bed and forced a cry from his throat.

Then came the pounding.

Kurt had never fucked him like this before, slamming into him with raw abandon, as if he couldn't wait himself, as if all his composure had been a lie and he desperately needed this just as much as Blaine did. His cock flew in and out of Blaine's ass and Blaine's fingers scrabbled at the edge of the mattress for something to hold onto. He heard himself making sounds he'd never made before, wild animal cries that in his head were _please_ and _yes_ and _master_ but came out as incoherent wails. Kurt's cock was driving an agony of ecstasy through his body, his balls were incandescent with heat, his ass screamed for mercy and for more; it was everything. Kurt was everything. And Blaine was nothing. Nothing but the perfect vessel for Kurt's pleasure.

And when Kurt cried out and came, Blaine could have sworn that he came too, the bliss of knowing that he'd pleased his master was almost too much to bear. It swelled and peaked with an intensity that left him panting and helpless on the bed, pressed under Kurt's weight and praying that neither of them would ever have to move again.

Blaine lay there under Kurt and throbbed. Literally. His heart throbbed between his ribs, his cock throbbed in the cage, his back throbbed where Kurt breathed hard against it, his ass was going to be throbbing for a good long time, he knew. And he honestly didn't care what happened next, as long as Kurt stayed right where he was.

"I like the cage," Kurt panted finally, breath hot against Blaine's back.

Blaine laughed, and the movement pushed Kurt's wilting cock out of his body. Empty again. He hated that.

"I like what the cage does to you," he told Kurt. "That was fucking awesome."

Kurt rolled them over until he was spooning Blaine, resting one warm hand over the cage. Blaine was glad he had gotten the metal one, with bars, so at least he could feel Kurt's touch, even if it was frustrating as hell.

"I guess I got a little carried away. Was it worth the two days of lock-up?"

Blaine tilted his head back against Kurt's chest. "A fuck like that is worth a month of lock-up."

"Hmmm." Blaine could almost hear Kurt smiling. "Don't think I won't take you up on that."

"It was good," Blaine admitted quietly. "The cage I mean. Better than I thought it would be."

"You were amazing, Blaine. Just like always. And as a reward I'm going to unlock that cage and give you the most incredible blowjob you've ever had."

"Thank God," Blaine sighed.

"After we have dinner, and clean up. And after I finish the outline for my chemistry report."

"What?" Blaine wriggled around to glare at Kurt.

"We have to be responsible about this," Kurt reasoned with mock seriousness. "You said it yourself. Duty before pleasure."

"Duty before _my_ pleasure," Blaine pointed out, just the tiniest bit petulantly.

Kurt grinned, the almost-evil grin that always made Blaine want to crawl at his feet in abject devotion.

"Exactly."


End file.
